


Collusion

by bazinga01



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazinga01/pseuds/bazinga01
Summary: She expects the department to care. She expects them to launch an investigation. What she doesn’t expect is her supervisor brushing her off, telling her, “Sawyer, we’re not gonna waste time and resources chasing a ghost. We have no way to ID her yet, and more importantly, she hasn’t done anything to impede our work.”(an Alternate Timeline story.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the time prior to Kara becoming Supergirl and joining the DEO, AKA prior to canon season 1. This story also assumes Alex knows she's gay, AKA it avoids a coming out plot. 
> 
> credit note: some ideas for this fic were drawn from the character of John on the show Person of Interest, and fans of that show may pick up on it in this story. however, this fic is not in any way a crossover and no knowledge of that show is necessary.

“Hey Sawyer, check this out.”

Collins motions her over, tilting his head toward a computer monitor flashing with surveillance footage. Maggie drops her pen and rubs at her eyes, bleary from reading too long without pause. The wheels on the chair at her desk squeak as she pushes back and stands up, rolling her neck to release the built-up muscle tension.

“What am I looking at?” She peers at the screen and sees grainy footage of what looks like a subway car.

“Surveillance footage from the front car of an M line train last night. Janik and Esparza were there last night tailing an odrigen suspected in a couple recent robberies.”

She trains her eyes on the screen, not understanding what’s so noteworthy. “Wha-“

“Wait for it.”

The odrigen’s eyes flare when it realizes it’s been spotted and two of their best field agents rear back, Esparza pulling a tranq gun from his bag. It’s a huge risk, with no guarantee that the compound will have a sedating effect on the alien. They were supposed to be tailing for information only, no direct engagement.

“Shit,” she says, and Collins nods.

“We haven’t even gotten to the weird part yet.”

Maggie watches on with interest, and that’s when she sees her, a woman clad in all black, sitting at the corner of the train. The grainy figure of the woman on screen stands up and says something to the agents and they motion as if shouting back at her in warning.

The odrigen spins toward her and charges, only for the woman to quickly dodge the attack and deliver a striking blow to its knee from behind. Before it has any time to react, to gain its footing, the woman plunges something into its neck- a syringe, maybe?- and the alien crumples to the floor of the train car. She says something to the agents, gesturing towards the odrigen on the ground, and then stalks off through the sliding door to the connecting car.

“Agents lost her at the next stop. She ghosted,” Collins says, and Maggie stares as the video feed cuts out.

“Any idea who we’re dealing with?” she asks, looking down at the printed image captures of the woman from the surveillance feed.

“Not a clue.” Collins shakes his head. “But this isn’t her first appearance. ‘Bout three weeks ago Percy got caught up dealing with a tuornis. When back-up arrived, he claimed a woman dressed in all black had helped him. The guys chalked it up to the hallucinogenic effects of contact with the tuornis. Now we’re thinking maybe it really happened.”

“And the odrigen?”

“Not dead. Sedated like a charm. We’ve got it in holding now.”

Maggie picks up the photo, staring at the pixelated blurry shape of her face and her dark chin-length hair. Odrigens are rare, rare enough that the department’s got little intel on their physiology. Whoever this woman is, she knows what she’s doing.

“Can I keep this?” she asks, gesturing to the picture.

Collins shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. Video quality is poor and facial recognition software got nothin’. Try not to obsess over it too much. Odds of ever ID’ing her are real low unless she turns up again.”

Maggie nods, but her interest is piqued. She’s finally been cleared to go out in the field, has done her rookie due diligence sitting at her desk since transferring to NCPD’s science division. And when she gets her next field assignment, a part of her hopes their mystery woman will turn up.

 

 

Her first time out in the field with the division, there’s no woman in black to be seen, but there’s blue blood everywhere. It’s pooled on the pavement with streaks of it smeared across the alley dumpster.  There’s only one witness, a teenage boy who called it in, and he’s standing there with wide eyes and a skateboard clutched in his arms when Maggie arrives.

“Can you tell me what you saw?” she asks, kneeling to inspect the blood more closely.

“There was this guy,” he stutters. “His skin had this silver tint to it. He…he wasn’t human. But he spoke English. He was already on the ground when I saw him. Some-..something hurt him. He was trying to get up. That’s why—“ He gestures at the blood on the dumpster instead of finishing his sentence. “I ran across to the corner store to get help and by the time I got back he was missing.”

The blood trail doesn’t continue, which is puzzling. It’s almost like someone else came by and helped, maybe drove away. She asks the boy a few more questions and prepares to let him go, but then he says, “There was someone else, for just a minute,” and Maggie listens with interest. “A woman. She looked like she was working.”

And there’s no way, the odds of it being the same person are… “What do you mean working?”

The boy shrugs, nervous. “Like she was there for a reason, like she knew what she was doing. She had special gloves. And goggles. It looked like she was doing something with the blood.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

He shakes his head. “She looked like she was talking to herself and then she ran away by the time I could cross the street again.”

Maggie almost doesn’t want to ask for a physical description, doesn’t want the confirmation that it was the same person. Because then that establishes a pattern, and if there’s a pattern then there’s something to investigate. Still, she knows she has to, and when the boy answers that she had short reddish-brown hair and was wearing all black—Maggie has her answer.

 She thanks him for the information and for calling it in, lets him leave and jots down a few notes. She’s almost certain the missing victim was a hyacint, based on the description and the blood left behind. Which, speaking of blood, this is way more biohazard than she’s equipped to deal with.

She jogs back over to her cruiser, ducking into the driver’s seat to radio in for hazard assistance. She thinks about asking for Collins, to tell him what she’s heard, and decides to wait until she gets back to the station. The situation doesn’t add up. A body gone missing in less than three minutes, a woman well-equipped to deal with the toxicity of hyacint blood.

Whoever the woman in black is, her work is purposeful. And she has her own intel about alien whereabouts.

 

 

She expects the department to care. She expects them to launch an investigation. What she doesn’t expect is her supervisor brushing her off, telling her, “Sawyer, we’re not gonna waste time and resources chasing a ghost. We have no way to ID her yet, and more importantly, she hasn’t done anything to impede our work.”

Maggie clenches her fists at her sides, works to keep her voice calm and level. She knows she has to watch her place, especially because she’s new to the team.

“With all due respect, ma’am, she’s intervened in three separate investigations, and it seems she’s highly informed about alien physiology. She knew how to sedate the odrigen and we still don’t. I think that’s significant.”

“She’s not a priority. Not yet. Not until there’s more than a shoddy surveillance feed with no facial recognition and two eyewitness accounts. Do you have prints? An alias? Anything?” she probes, knowing what the answer is. “Then you don’t have an investigation.”

 

 

She definitely has an investigation, even if it’s solo and unofficial. There is something important about this woman, and she’s going to figure it out.

 

 

Three weeks pass and she sees plenty of alien activity but no sighting or word of the woman in black. Janik and Esparza weren’t able to provide much info beyond a more detailed physical description, and Percy was too out of it to remember much of anything other than that she helped and she was strong.

It’s night, not too late, and she’s out patroling when she gets a call. Someone’s reported a fight in an alley adjacent to 9th and Hearst, in the industrial sector.

“Don’t get too excited, Sawyer,” warns the dispatcher with a laugh. “Woman admitted to being on somethin’. Says she thinks she saw two aliens fighting in an alley and one of ‘em had horns. Personally, sounds like she’s just trippin’.”

Maggie responds and then flips her turn signal, heading east towards the intersection of the reported incident. Even if the sighting wasn’t real, she’s going to act like it was until she’s proven otherwise. When she approaches the intersection, she switches her lights off and parks opposite the alley entrance. If there really is a fight, then she has no idea what she could be walking into, what species are involved. Her weapon is holstered and she quietly crosses the street, jogging around to the alley entrance.

She hears the commotion before she sees it. “I warned you, Gohraz, and you didn’t listen.”

There’s the clang of glass, a bottle breaking, and then the sound of someone landing a punch. It’s met with a low growl in response and then several more punches and kicks traded back and forth. She sees them, then, illuminated under the glow of the nearest streetlight. One’s got a third eye and a purplish tint to their skin, and the other is over six feet tall with short horns protruding from his head.

“Five points for high girl,” she mutters, watching them land blows to each other. She watches from the shadows, trying to get a read on the situation.

“S’not my fault your wife’s pissed,” the smaller one grumbles, trapped in a chokehold. Maggie fights back a smile, because _seriously_?

A door that she didn’t realize led to anything important swings open, spilling more light into the alley, and an alien that looks human aside from her pointy ears strides out.

“Will you two knock it off and go home?”

The taller alien ignores her request, and Maggie is torn between watching his face turn a deeper purple and peeking into what seems to be a dive bar inside the door.  It feels safe enough to intervene and so that’s exactly what she does, stepping into the light and pulling her badge.

“NCPD! What seems to be the problem here?” The two aliens freeze and the horned one releases his hold as the other chokes in air.

“Oh great, now you’ve really done it, attracted the cops over here. _Idiots_ ,” she hisses before storming back inside.

The fighting has died to an uncomfortable silence, and Maggie’s pretty sure she just interrupted an alien bar brawl. The two of them actually look embarrassed and a little frightened.

“Sorry officer. We didn’t mean any harm, “says the tall one, and the other glares but nods along. She thinks they know what’s at stake, what it means once your name is in the system as an off-worlder. Less secrecy, more chance of being surveilled. Maggie doesn’t want to do that to them, not for something so frivolous.

So she says, “I’ll make you a deal,” and pockets her badge. “You tell me what this place is, maybe show me around, and I won’t ask for any personal details.” When she’s met with hesitance and silence she adds, “DMZ, I promise. I’ll leave my weapon at the door, consider me off the clock.”

She knows it might be stupid, but she’s too curious to back down.

When they let her inside, she has to school her features into a neutral expression. Because it’s truly an alien dive bar, complete with pool tables, a jukebox machine, and a “CASH & BARTER ONLY” sign. She immediately recognizes the value in a place like this, a neutral place to connect with what’s going on in the alien world, and she knows how to protect an opportunity when it’s handed to her.

The person with the horns has already stalked off, but she turns to the other person who’s standing a couple feet to her left, unsure if he’s allowed to leave her.

“My name is Maggie. Thanks for showing me inside.”

He’s not exactly comfortable but he gives her a cautious smile, and that’s more than enough.

 

 

She visits the bar at least a couple times a week after that, truly off the clock, and gets to know some of the regulars. There’s a few humans, drifters mostly, but the rest are everyday aliens seeking refuge. She doesn’t report the existence of the bar to her department. The space is becoming a little haven for her too.

It’s through her regular time spent at the bar that she hears murmurs of some kind of covert alien response group. No one can say exactly who they are, but a few aliens claim to have had run-ins with them. Sometimes the people are violent, sometimes they’re helpful; it depends on what they think the situation is. One night she hears a sylian named Tereon rant on about how they’re black ops U.S. military while other aliens roll their eyes and laugh.

Maggie doesn’t. It’s too ridiculous to be real, and yet Tereon’s words stick with her. Because—what if he’s on to something?

 

 

She has the day off and it’s a cloudy gloomy morning that leaves the acres of Reese Park nearly empty. Maggie loves the solitude, craves the peace and quiet of mornings like this while she’s out jogging. The gravel paths that wind through the grass and trees are nearly deserted, leaving her to her own thoughts and the steady pulse of her breath.

Maggie is so wrapped up in her own thoughts that for a moment she thinks she’s imagining things when she sees her. About twenty feet from the path, between two trees, is a woman in a fitted black jacket and pants kneeling over a body. She’s got blue vinyl medical gloves on and is pulling items from a pack at her side. Maggie knows without a doubt that it’s her, the woman from the train, the woman who showed up at her first crime scene.

Maggie wonders how fast the woman is, if Maggie would be able to catch the woman if she tried to run off. She figures it’s worth the chance. They’re at the center of acres of empty park land, and this is the closest she’s ever gotten to her. The only time she’s seen her in person.

She jogs toward her before she can second guess herself, and the woman whips her head up. “Stay back! FBI!”

Maggie laughs, slows to a walk as she approaches. “No you’re not.” The woman gapes at her. “Detective Sawyer, NCPD Science Division. I’ve seen—“ Maggie’s words catch in her throat when she looks down and takes in the scene. The body at her feet is a human body, a homicide. There are deep scratches in his abdomen, deep enough that he likely bled out within minutes. She doesn’t recognize the scratch marks from any of her own research. “What did this?”

The woman stares at her with an unreadable expression. “Wild animal, I think. I was about to call someone.”

Maggie raises her brows. “What, after you finished your autopsy in the park?” The woman glares at her. “And you I both know it wasn’t a wild animal that did this.”

“You know nothing,” the woman says, voice even. She’s packing supplies back into her bag, preparing to make a swift exit.

“I wouldn’t recommend that. I will definitely outrun you.”

There’s a quirk of an arrogant smile on the woman’s lips. “I doubt that.”

“Fine. Go play tag. You leave John Doe and all the evidence behind for me. Sounds great.” The woman pauses and Maggie gives a triumphant smile. “That’s what I thought.”

The woman is quiet for a moment before responding. “Ok, here’s how this is gonna go. I will collect my evidence. I will share some helpful information with you. And then you will let me leave, and you will call in the body and say you found him on your morning run.”

Maggie stares at the intensity in her eyes, really takes in the woman’s features for the first time. Her expression is harsh, but Maggie can’t deny the woman is attractive.

“Oh, so I’m taking orders now?” she scoffs.

The woman shrugs, unfazed. “It’s either that or I knock you out so you can’t follow me, and I really don’t feel like starting out my Friday beating up a pretty cop. Consider this my peace offering.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, and the woman takes that as her cue to continue, kneeling back down towards the body.

“You’ve shown up at alien crime scenes before. I saw the footage of you on the train with the odrigen. And I know you were there with the injured hyacint a few weeks ago,” Maggie says, kneeling down across from her and surveying the gashes in more detail.

“This was done by a sanglin,” she says, completely ignoring Maggie. “What I don’t know is why. Sanglins aren’t hunters, and they have no motive to kill a human.”

Maggie repeats the foreign species name in her head several times, trying to draw up any memory of it, but there’s none. “I’ve never heard of a sanglin,” she says, deciding for the truth.

The woman nods, extracting skin samples from the cuts and placing them in biohazard collection containers. “I’m not surprised. They prefer rural areas, open space,” she explains, gesturing around at the park. “You wouldn’t come across them much in your work.”

Maggie reels, realizes just how much her department is unaware of different alien species. It doesn’t make any sense; the NCPD is connected to all classified databases of information. Or at least, that’s what she thought. She’s starting to seriously doubt it now.

“How do you know all this?” she asks, waiting for the woman to look up and meet her eyes. “Who are you?”

She gives Maggie a long look, not unkind, but says nothing.

“There are rumors, you know,” Maggie pushes. “Rumors about a black ops group that deals with aliens. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Sounds like you need to get off Reddit and get outside more,” she answers, packing away the samples she’s collected.

“If you say so, Scully.”

The response draws a surprised laugh from the woman that has Maggie grinning.

“I thought you said I wasn’t FBI,” she replies, and it turns out the woman has a sense of humor after all.

“Maybe not. But you’ve got the whole undercover alien scientist and detective thing down.”

There’s a small smile on the woman’s mouth, and Maggie is captivated. Captivated, and so _so_ screwed. Because now she’s met the woman in black, has talked to her, and she’s no closer to knowing anything about who she is or what work she does. All she’s got is intrigue and mystery that’ll keep her up at night.

The woman stands and shoulders her bag, says, “call in the homicide,” instead of goodbye.

She’s a good fifteen feet away from Maggie when she pauses and stands, facing away for a few seconds. Then she’s turning, a soft expression on her face that makes her seem real and not just the product of some strange fever dream.

“You can call me Alex.”

She jogs away before Maggie has the chance to reply.


	2. Chapter 2

There are two more dead bodies discovered in Reese Park within the week.

Maggie tries to research sanglins on her own, digging into obscure online forums in search of any leads that might help. She doesn’t tell anyone in her department about her run-in with the woman, with Alex. As long as sanglins don’t exist in the databases and Alex is just a ghost with a first name, she has nothing tangible to share.

That doesn’t stop her own endless stream of questions. Is Alex working alone? How does she know details about an alien species that her department has no record of? If sanglins aren’t hunters then why do they have such lethal claws? Why is a sanglin killing people? Or is it more than one sanglin?

She’s at the alien bar, sitting alone with her thoughts and nursing a beer, when she decides to take a chance and ask the bartender. “Hey, Brauneq, you know anything about sanglins?”

He wipes at an empty section of the bar top. “What about ‘em?”

“What do you know about them?” she asks, takes another slow sip.

“Nice folk. Came across a small family of them at Yosemite a few years back. They tend to stay outta the city, with the sensitivity and all. Why?”

“I think there might be an issue with a sanglin at Reese Park,” she discloses. “What do you mean sensitivity?”

Maggie wonders if they’re empaths, if that’s why they need the low density of people.  

“They absorb the pollutants, all the crap in the air. Makes ‘em sick. Surprised there’s any at Reese, but I suppose the park’s big enough.”

Maggie catalogs the info in her mind, starts connecting the possibilities. “Thanks, B. That actually helps a lot.”

She wonders if Alex knows this, if she’s aware that the sanglin’s preference for rural areas is due to their vulnerability to toxins. It could be that there’s something in the park that’s making them sick, making them lethally aggressive.

Maggie pays her tab, shrugs into her jacket and heads out to where her motorcycle is parked. As the cool night air whips past her, she thinks about Alex. The woman is the only person Maggie really has to work with on this, and yet Maggie has no way of contacting her. She still knows nothing about her. She can only hope that, with a body count now at three, Alex will reach out to her.

 

 

It’s in the afternoon, after a fourth body is brought in, that she gets a call at her desk from a blocked number.

“This is Sawyer.”

“I hear the starline club sandwich at Flancer’s is to die for.”

Maggie startles and then frowns, because she’s pretty sure that’s Alex’s voice, but _what_?

“Excuse me?” There’s no reply, and then the line goes dead. “Seriously?”

 She searches for Flancer’s on her phone and a sandwich shop pops up, a few blocks away near the financial district. Maggie can’t understand why Alex operates under so much secrecy, why she can’t just call her like a normal person. Instead, she’s got Maggie playing detective on her lunch hour.

When she gets to Flancer’s, it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that the sandwich she’s supposed to order isn’t on the menu. She takes a slow breath, hopes she’s not about to look like a total idiot, and places her order.

The employee’s eyes widen, only slightly, and then he nods, punching something into the system. “That’ll be nine fifty-eight.”

Maggie hands over her card, not even sure what she’s paying for, and then stands off to the side and waits for them to complete her order. A couple minutes later, she’s handed a sandwich wrapped in deli paper. She waits until she’s outside and seated on a park bench to unwrap it. When she does, there’s a phone number scrawled on the inside of the paper, along with an actual sandwich.

She rolls her eyes and dials the number into her cell, listens to it ring twice before someone picks up. “Hello?”

“I’ve always been more of a pastrami person myself, but this’ll do.”

“Hi, Sawyer.”

“Scully. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You have three more bodies,” Alex answers, and her tone lacks the arrogant sort of confidence it carried when they met.

“I do,” Maggie confirms, waits to see where Alex will take this next.

“Did you tell your department about the sanglin?”

Maggie pauses, stares off at the pedestrian traffic passing by, before answering. “No. But I’ve done some research of my own. What’ve you got?”

“I think something or someone has altered its brain chemistry. This kind of violence makes no sense from a sanglin, and the victims are random. There doesn’t seem to be any kind of motive for the attacks. But then there’s also no discernible motive for controlling a sanglin, so nothing quite adds up. That’s why I’m calling. The last two bodies were brought in before I could get to them.”

“You want samples,” Maggie guesses, and Alex agrees. “I think I’ve got something better.” Alex is quiet and she takes that as her cue to continue. “Do you know why sanglins prefer rural areas?” More silence. “I don’t know how exactly, but they’re vulnerable to air pollution. It’s toxic to them. So I think something in the park is making them sick. Altering their brain, like you said.”

The line is quiet for so long that Maggie pulls back to check her screen, to check that Alex is still there. Then, “where did you learn that?”

So she was right. She can tell from the cadence of her voice. Alex didn’t know.

Maggie swells with pride, tries not to sound too cocky when she says, “you have your sources, I have mine.”

“Sanglin skin has a scaly texture to it. The samples I took were to analyze sanglin skin particles embedded in the cuts, not human. I’ve been trying to make sense of their physiology, their vulnerability. And I think you just gave me the missing piece. It’s difficult to trace a motive because there is no motive. This is environmental.”

Maggie hums, trying to sort out the pieces slowly connecting in her mind. “So if we assume the air hasn’t changed, then what—“

“Water,” Alex interrupts, rushing. “It’s the water. The creek that runs through the park, something’s polluted it and whatever it was, the sanglin absorbed it. I’ve gotta go. I’ll contact you later.”

Maggie pulls back her phone, and yep, she actually hung up this time. “You’re welcome,” she grumbles, taking a bite of the sandwich in her lap.

 

 

There are no more deaths in Reese Park. Two days later, late at night when she’s settling down for bed, she gets a text from Alex.

_The sanglin situation is resolved. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you_

Maggie knows now that it’s impossible Alex is working alone. There’s no way she could have handled the water contaminant and detoxed the sanglin on her own in 48 hours. She wonders yet again who Alex really is, who she works with. She’s clearly very intelligent and highly trained. Maggie doesn’t know that she trusts her, not yet, but she won’t deny that she enjoyed partnering with her on this.

_Anytime, Scully_

She switches off her lamp and sinks into the mattress, burrowing under her feather-soft duvet. She doesn’t expect a reply. But only a few seconds later, her phone screen lights up again.

_Are you going to keep calling me that?_

Maggie smiles.

_Sure am. Until you tell me who you really are_

She keeps her phone unlocked, watches the typing bubbles appear.

  _I told you my name is Alex_

She’s surprised that Alex acknowledges it, is carrying some kind of conversation right now, however small.

_That’s a first name, and I don’t even know if it’s real. Doesn’t tell me much of anything_

It takes Alex longer to reply this time.

_It’s real_

She doesn’t know why, but Maggie believes her. She’s about to respond when she sees the typing bubble appear again.

_I’m sorry that I’m so secretive, but it’s my job to be_

Then-

_I shouldn’t even be texting you_

Maggie has so many questions she wants to ask. Who do you work for? Why so much secrecy? How do you know what you know? But the first one that comes, and the one she sends back is—

_So why are you?_

She stares at the screen, watching the typing bubble appear, then disappear again, repeatedly. Finally, it disappears altogether and Maggie sighs. She sets her phone back on the nightstand and drifts off to sleep with Alex on her mind.

A text comes through, almost two hours later, lighting up the darkness of Maggie’s bedroom.

_I don’t know_

Maggie doesn’t see the text until morning, and it sticks in her head all day.

 

 

Texting becomes a semi-regular thing for them. It’s always brief, and it’s usually about work stuff. Maggie is constantly learning.

_Hey, Scully?_

_Yeah?_

She snaps a picture of the body on her phone and sends it to Alex.

_What the fuck is this?_

_Where did you find a dead totrazan??_

_Pier 11, washed up on the rocks. A what, now?_

 

 

Sometimes, in the late hours when darkness has settled over their city, Alex will reach out to her with less pretense. Maggie wonders if she feels safer with her secrets in the dark.

_Do you like whiskey?_

The texts comes through just after midnight and Maggie is curled up with her reading glasses and a book, glad to have the morning off tomorrow.

_I do :)_

Alex’s reply is quick.

_My sister says it’s gross. I told her she has terrible taste_

Maggie laughs, wants to address the merits of whiskey, but also—

_You have a sister?_

_Yeah_

Maggie has come to crave this, these tiny details of Alex’s life revealed in pieces. She knows it’s a little obsessive, but she can’t stop herself at this point.

_She as dark and broody as you?_

_You think I’m dark and broody?_

Maggie smirks, decides it’s late and she can have some fun if she wants.

_Mhm, just my type_

There’s a long delay before Alex replies and Maggie wonders what’s going through her head right now, unfiltered.

_Is that so?_

Maggie decides to keep it simple, vague.

;)

Alex doesn’t answer after that, and she returns to the chapter of her book.

 

 

It’s mid-morning and she’s following a lead that’s more likely a dead end. They’ve been trying to track down the tuornis that evaded Percy, as reports of nonviolent muggings continue to trickle into the department. They know that skin contact generates a response in the nervous system that temporarily overtakes human sense perception, causing visual and auditory hallucinations. It’s believed that the tuornis is intentionally making skin contact and triggering hallucinations, incapacitating people in order to rob them. And there may be more than one of them operating throughout the city.

A woman was brought into the ER a few hours ago, with a missing purse and all the symptoms of hallucinogenic contact, found on the sidewalk by a boarded-up convenience store. So she’s headed to the site because it’s protocol, even though she has no real expectation that the tuornis will still be there.

She surveys the empty lot from her cruiser first, gets a lay of the property. The doors and windows are boarded up and the store looks like it’s been out of use for a while. When she steps out of the car, the residual chill of the morning air strikes her and she pulls the zipper up on her jacket. It’s quiet but for the sound of the occasional passing car and she sighs, determines to do a loop around the property before leaving.

Just as she reaches the back end of the building, where the dumpsters and the emergency exit are, she spots movement. Two of the boards have been removed from the one back window and there’s a body climbing out.

A body with translucent skin, an elongated face, and stormy gray eyes that lock onto hers as soon as it lands.

Maggie freezes, realizes she’s made a huge mistake.

It’s the tuornis and she didn’t come prepared.

Her hands are exposed, as well as her neck and her face. All she’s got is a taser, which she knows won’t work, and a gun, which she really does not want to fire. And her phone. She has her phone.

Maggie makes a decision then, pulls her phone from her back pocket as the tuornis’ eyes bore into hers. She dials Alex, before she ever thinks to call the station.

She holds the phone to her ear and Alex picks up on the third ring, all while the tuornis surveys her with curiosity, slowly advancing.

“ _Sawyer?”_

“There’s a tuornis at Addison and Quint. Help me.” And then she runs for the cruiser, knows her odds of making a getaway are slim to none.

She makes it halfway before she feels it grip at the back of her jacket, yanking her back and knocking her phone out of her hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” it hisses. “If you just stay still I won’t have to hurt you.”

Maggie spins around and lands a solid kick to its stomach, protected by her shoe. But she feels its fingers graze the side of her neck in the process and she sees colorful spots behind her eyes. She stumbles, tries to land another blow to it with her foot. She strikes nothing but air and almost loses her balance, realizes she’s starting to see double of the tuornis. It laughs. There’s laughter everywhere, echoing, compounding, and then there’s a firm hand against her cheek.

The world flips then, the parking lot is on its side and she’s falling falling falling, screams echoing out and rushing through wind.

She hears, “I think I’ll teach you a lesson,” through a tunnel, quiet, rumbling, and then pain sears white hot through her body.

There are shouts everywhere, surrounding her, as the pain ricochets through her, spilling out from her clavicle.  She’s sure she must be dying with this sort of pain surging in her nerves. She screams, screams until there’s nothing left, until her lungs are bursting with need.

Words come to her, at the wrong frequency, from the other side. They ring through her brain with nowhere to land.

“I’ve got you, Sawyer. Just hang on, I’ve got you.”

The pain spins and spins and spins, but the colors turn to normal and the sky settles to its usual blue. She’s on her back and there’s a hand in her hair and the sound of a chopper, and then the world goes black.

 

 

A steady beeping noise wakes her, ticking an even rhythm, and she groans. There’s a dull throbbing pain along her neck and shoulder, and she slowly blinks her eyes open. It’s a hospital of some kind and she’s in a bed. The beeping, she realizes, is the steady pulse of her own heart on display. She’s hooked up to several monitors and the lights in the room are low, allowing her rest.

She’s trying to piece together what happened, but most of it is hazy. She remembers the tuornis. She remembers trying to run.

And Alex. She remembers calling Alex.

Right then a door slides open and a woman she doesn’t recognize enters.

“Welcome back, Detective Sawyer.”

Maggie pushes herself up and ignores the pain that radiates out when she does so. She doesn’t like anything about this, doesn’t like that she has no memory, no sense of where she is.

“It’s ok, you’re safe here,” the woman assures. “I’ll let Agent Danvers know you’re awake, she’ll be here in a minute.”

She frowns, trying to understand through the fog of her memory. “Agent Danvers?”

“Yes, she found you and brought you in. The tuornis bite was toxic, it nearly killed you. But you’ve received an antidote. You’re going to be fine. Agent Danvers can explain the rest.”

So the tuornis bit her. In the muscle above her clavicle, judging by the source of the pain. She didn’t even know that they could be toxic to humans. She thought their hallucinogenic effects were trouble-causing but otherwise harmless. She feels monumentally stupid for walking into the situation so unprepared.

She’s caught in her own thoughts, slowly making sense of what happened, when there’s a gentle knock against the open door.

“Hey.”

It’s Alex, dressed the same as ever and looking towards the screens flashing her vitals.

“Agent Danvers?” Maggie squints, then smiles. “You’re an agent?”

Alex rolls her eyes and enters the room. “Can I?” she asks, gesturing toward the chair by Maggie’s bed. Maggie nods and appraises her as she moves. She looks tired, and maybe a little worried, though she hides it well.

“We’ve got the tuornis in holding. You sustained a pretty bad bite, but it wasn’t the bite that threatened your life,” she explains. “Their saliva contains molecules that bind to pain receptors in the human brain. When I got to you, you…you were screaming. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a human in so much pain.”

Alex is clinical, almost detached, with her words, but her face betrays a softness and concern that speaks volumes. She’s beautiful like this, Maggie thinks, right here in front of her, so real and so very human.

“Thank you for saving me,” she says, and Alex finally meets her eyes.

“I work for the Department of Extranormal Operations. The DEO. That’s where we are right now,” Alex admits, and Maggie stares. “We’re government-run and, as far as everyone else knows, we don’t exist.”

“So…you’re a black ops alien scientist.”

Alex smiles, the first real smile since Maggie woke up. “Something like that.”

“Can’t believe I had to almost die to get your last name, Danvers. Talk about hard to get.”

Alex rolls her eyes and swats at Maggie’s good arm. They both laugh quietly and then settle into a comfortable silence.

Eventually Alex sits up straighter in her chair and says, “I can answer your questions, now. When you’re ready to ask them. I just need you to sign like forty-six different NDA’s first.”

Maggie relaxes back into her pillow, keeps her head tilted towards Alex. “I find I do better learning the details of secret government operations over drinks. You want to buy me a beer this weekend?”

Alex arches her eyebrow, nods. “Only if you’re buying me whiskey.”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and thoughtful constructive criticism are welcome. xo


	3. Chapter 3

It’s already evening and she’s still a little out of it, so when Alex asks if she’ll stay overnight for observation, Maggie agrees. She may not know much of anything about the DEO, but she knows that Alex saved her life and that’s enough to earn her trust.

She wakes a few minutes after seven as the morning light creeps in through the east-facing window of the medical bay. The pain in her shoulder is dull, her movement more manageable, and she swings her legs off the side of the bed. They’d given her a long sleeve t-shirt and soft cotton pants the night before, and she pads across the floor in her bare feet towards where they’ve left her shoes.

When she gets out into the hallway, there’s no movement aside from her own slow steps, but she can make out a large control room at the end of the hall and hears voices. The woman from yesterday, the one she saw when she first woke up, looks up as soon as she enters the spacious room.

“Just a sec,” she says into her headset. “Good morning, Detective. I was just about to come check and see if you were awake.”

Maggie starts to answer her, but she’s distracted by movement on a large screen that’s displaying headshots of several different aliens along with known stats. There are computers everywhere and tracking monitors she doesn’t know if she’s ever seen before.

“I’m Vasquez, by the way. Agent Vasquez. Agent Danvers is on assignment right now, but she left some paperwork with me for you.”

Maggie nods, still taking in all the details of her surroundings. “Did Alex say when she’d be back?” Vasquez raises her eyebrows but otherwise doesn’t comment, and Maggie realizes her slip up, realizes maybe she shouldn’t have revealed she knows Alex on a first-name basis.

“It’ll be a while. She said not to wait for her. You’re free to leave once we’ve got the signatures we need from you.”

Vasquez hefts a large stack of papers into her arms that Maggie hadn’t noticed before and she groans.

“You guys got any coffee in this place?” 

 

 

_Your HR staff must hate you_

She sends the text about forty-five minutes into reading through legal jargon, signing and initialing as she goes. Maggie is no stranger to nondisclosure agreements, but this shit is next level. It takes a few minutes for Alex to reply.

_Having fun with the NDAs?_

_My hand is cramping_

_You’ll live_

Maggie rolls her eyes, turns to the next set of pages. Her phone buzzes again.

_How is your shoulder feeling?_

She touches at where the bite mark is bandaged to prevent infection and smiles softly at Alex’s concern.

_The muscle is sore but I’m alright. Thanks_

Alex is faster to reply this time.

_I’m sorry to say it’s probably going to scar_

Maggie answers—

_Wouldn’t be my first_

Then, after considering it for a second, adds—

_Plus, alien bite mark scar? That’s badass, the ladies will love it_

It’s a little much, she knows. But they’ve been playing this game for weeks now and she needs to know for sure that they’re on the same page.

_Is that the secret? Cool scars? And here I thought girls were all about the bike_

Maggie hides her smile behind her coffee mug, takes a quick sip, before setting it down to type out a reply.

 

They meet up on a Saturday evening at a bar Maggie’s never heard of, an address Alex sent her that’s adjacent to the arts district. She expects a dive bar and is surprised to arrive at a more modern whiskey bar instead. It’s nothing too pretentious, it wouldn’t fit the vibe of the neighborhood, but it’s still different than what she expected.

She gets there before Alex and stays standing, leaning against the large wrap-around bar top. The lights are low and several people are in pairs or groups chatting, while others congregate around two polished pool tables. She doesn’t know why, but this suddenly feels much more like a date. And it _is_ a date, she knows that. She and Alex have made their interest in each other pretty clear the past couple of days, consumed in flirty banter. But she’s surprised by the nerves skipping around in her stomach, and it only gets worse when she spots Alex entering the bar.

It’s the first time Maggie has seen her in street clothes, and a new kind of want surges in her chest. She’s got on dark skinny jeans and boots, olive green shirt paired with the deep brown of her leather jacket, and Maggie can’t believe this is her life right now.

Alex nods her way in acknowledgment, heading toward her spot at the bar. Maggie is halfway through working out how to greet her—a hug? a touch to the arm? a nod?—when Alex smiles and says, “Hey Sawyer,” before leaning against the bar next to her. “You order anything yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, was waiting for you. Have you been here before?”

Alex nods, and god, Maggie can’t get over how good she looks. “A few times. They make good drinks. Don’t worry, I know you said you wanted beer. They’ve got quite a few on tap.”

Alex pays for them both, after some protest from Maggie, and Maggie promises she’s got the next round.

She picks a small booth in the corner, secluded from most other people, and settles in across from Alex. There’s a quiet moment where they settle into companionable silence and they both sip at their drinks. Alex looks calm, like she’s waiting for Maggie to ask her something, and she gives in.

“So…what’s your academic background?” She can tell Alex is surprised by her first question, but she quickly recovers, meeting her eyes when she answers.

“I have a PhD in bioengineering. I’m also an MD.”

Maggie tries to hide how impressed she is. She’s pretty sure she fails. “That’s..wow, okay. Damn. And how old are you?”

Alex smiles, like she knows Maggie is trying to do the math on her degree timelines. “I’m 29. I, uh, I started my bachelor’s when I was really young.” Maggie sees her cheeks dust pink, almost like she’s embarrassed, and Maggie wonders how many times Alex has downplayed her intelligence and degrees to seem normal.

“Have you always been interested in alien physiology?” she asks, partly to make Alex more comfortable but also because she’s curious. Alex nods and takes another sip of her drink.

“Yeah, ever since I was a kid. My interest came from my parents, they’re both scientists,” she answers. Alex doesn’t elaborate any further, and Maggie doesn’t push.

“I assume you were directly recruited by the DEO? Or did you find out about them somehow before?”

Alex answers that yes, she was recruited, but Maggie sees something flash across her face that keeps her from asking more questions. They switch to talking about the DEO itself after that, its daily operations, its government ties. A lot of the information she was able to piece together through the content of the NDA’s, but Alex fills in the gaps, elaborates. It’s a whole world she never knew about, doing work that so often parallels her own. She thinks that meeting Alex, no matter how covert the DEO may be, was an inevitability. Maggie tells her as much.

“You think so?” Alex answers, giving Maggie a flirtatious look that she meets head on.

“Yeah, I do. You’re not as covert as you think you are.”

Alex scoffs. “You didn’t know my name and you had no way of contacting me.”

“I would’ve figured it out eventually, Danvers,” she grins, finishing off her second beer. “I always do.”

 

 

Alex asks her if she wants to play pool after they grab another round of drinks and Maggie agrees, follows Alex over to the bar.

The booth has been nice, comfortable, but it’s also been terrible because all Maggie wants is to touch her. And there’s no smooth way to make a move with a table between them. So, pool. Pool will be easier to work with even though she’s lousy at it.

The bar is more crowded now and Maggie stands behind Alex, gently rests her hand on the small of her back while they wait for the bartender to reach them. When Alex’s spine straightens and she leans into the touch, Maggie smiles, shifts and settles her hand more firmly against Alex’s hip. Alex turns to look at her then, face closer than ever and so _so_ pretty. Maggie watches her eyes, watches them dip down to Maggie’s lips then up again to meet her stare, and oh, this is definitely mutual and definitely happening. Maggie bites her lip, just to see what she’ll do, and is rewarded with a glare.

“You’re not playing fair,” Alex says, voice low.

“No?” she teases, grasping at Alex’s other hip, hands against the soft fabric of her shirt under her jacket.

Alex shakes her head, murmurs, “no, not at all.”

“How do you figure?” She scratches gently at Alex’s hips and is rewarded with the almost imperceptible sound of her inhale.

Alex shifts to face her fully, then, back to the bar, and it’s Maggie’s turn for her breath to stutter in her chest. Alex reaches up a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear and searching her eyes for several seconds. She must find what she’s looking for because then Alex is leaning in, hand against her jaw, and Maggie melts. Alex’s lips are soft but sure against hers and she moans, gripping harder at her waist.

She pulls back after a couple of seconds, even though it’s the last thing on earth she wants to do, because they’re still in the middle of a crowd and she doesn’t want an audience. Alex looks almost as dazed as she feels, staring after her lips.

She tips up on her toes, breath warm and voice low against Alex’s ear when she says, “you wanna skip round three and get out of here?”

“ _God_ , yes.”

 

 

They go to Maggie’s place because it’s closer.

The front door to her apartment is barely shut before Maggie is claiming her lips, pressing Alex’s back into the door. All the want that has been building up in her tonight, for weeks really, is suddenly crashing out of her with a heady desperation she didn’t know she possessed. But Alex meets her with every push and pull, groaning into Maggie’s mouth and gripping at her ass.

She licks into Alex’s mouth, head spinning at the slide of Alex’s tongue against hers. Alex pushes at her shirt, and Maggie tilts back, lifts her arms to allow Alex to pull it off. Then Alex is discarding her own jacket and shirt, pulling Maggie back to her until their bare stomachs are pressed together.

Alex’s breath fans across her face and Maggie blinks up at her, reveling in the charged energy between them. Alex quirks her eyebrow and Maggie leans in, presses a slow open kiss into her mouth. Then she dips down, continues her trail along the side of Alex’s neck before pulling at the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her towards her bedroom.

Alex is a vision, naked and clutching at the sheets beneath her. She can’t stop watching the flex of her toned muscles, the heated flush of her freckled skin. When Maggie adds a third finger, Alex curses and clutches at her bicep, pushing her head back into the mattress.

“ _Fuck_ , that feels so good, don’t stop,” she moans, voice breathy.

 Maggie grinds down against the firm muscle of Alex’s thigh and settles her weight onto her, leans down to press her lips against her collarbone. She’s certain she could come just from this, from fucking Alex while she rides her thigh. But she feels Alex slip her hand down, whisper ” _is this ok?_ ” into her hair, and Maggie nods, groaning and biting at Alex’s neck when she enters her, palm pressed to her clit.

She’s already so wound up that when Alex comes, hot and pulsing around her fingers, Maggie tips over the edge with her. Alex curves her fingers, manages to hit just the right angle, and Maggie is shaking for several long seconds before sinking into Alex’s arms.

She’s boneless, without a care to the sweat sticking between them, and Alex runs her other hand through Maggie’s hair, scratching gently at her scalp. She knows they are far from done, is intent to make Alex come on her tongue before the night is over. But for now, she lets herself relax, lets her breath even out against Alex’s chest. 

“I have to admit, I’ve fantasized about that more than once lately,” Alex says softly, and Maggie smiles into her skin, still high on her orgasm.

“You’re not the only one.”

 

 

She wakes to sunlight streaming in through the windows and an empty bed. There’s a handwritten note scrawled on scrap paper and left on Alex’s pillow.

_Got called in for an emergency situation in the north end. Sorry to have to leave you. I had a great time last night. Text me? – Alex_

Normally Maggie knows a brush-off when she sees one. She’s been responsible for a fair share of them herself. But she knows the nature of Alex’s job now, and she thinks Alex is being honest with her. She brews a pot of coffee, pulls some yogurt from the fridge and sprinkles granola on it.

_Everything alright out there, Danvers?_

She sends off the text, then lets the events of last night replay through her head while she eats breakfast. She’s had good sex before. Lots of it, actually. But she doesn’t know that she’s ever had this natural sort of chemistry that she has with Alex. There were fumblings, of course. There always are with someone new. But there’s something magnetic about the way Alex moves with her, not just in bed but in conversation too. She doesn’t know what she wants from Alex. She just knows that, whatever this is that’s brewing between them, she wants it to keep going, to keep building and expanding.

When she gets out of the shower, there’s still no response from Alex and Maggie frowns. She knows that Alex is probably busy if it really was an emergency, but usually Alex will manage to sneak a text here or there.

Maggie picks up the remote and flips on the news, and immediately she knows why Alex hasn’t replied. There’s been an alien attack at Central Bank downtown and there are hostages. She knows that if she didn’t have the day off, Maggie would likely be there herself right now.

She grabs her phone, sends off another text—

_Seeing the news right now. I assume you’re dealing with the bank robbery. Be safe out there. I had a great time last night too. I’ll talk to you later_

 

 

There are reports of fatalities inside of the bank, and Maggie stomach churns. She debates calling into the station to see if they can provide more information than what’s on the news.

She gets a text from Alex at 3 PM. All it says is—

_Don’t worry, I’m safe_

Maggie breathes out the tension she didn’t realize she’d be carrying all day.

A little after 8 PM, while Maggie is trying to relax at the alien bar, Alex texts her again.

_I’m home now. Sorry for leaving this morning. How’s your day been?_

Maggie shakes her head, sets down her beer.

_Shouldn’t I be asking you that?_

Alex starts typing back immediately.

_I’m alright._

Then—

_I’ve been thinking about you all day. You have no idea how much I didn’t want to leave this morning_

Maggie smiles, blush coloring her cheeks. She knew that she and Alex were still on good terms, but she’s glad to have confirmation that Alex feels the same as her. That she’s got a stake in this too.

She feels a little reckless when she replies—

_Me too. Been a while since I wanted someone to still be there in the morning_

It’s true though, and she wants Alex to know.

_Do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?_

Maggie does. She really does.

 

 

When Alex pulls up to the Chinese place near the station on a Ducati, Maggie thinks she might be a little in over her head. Alex removes her helmet, runs her fingers through her hair, and greets Maggie from the seat of her bike with a small wave.

Alex doesn’t hug her when she reaches the spot on the sidewalk where Maggie is standing. But she rests her hand against Maggie’s waist and kisses the corner of her mouth, and something blossoms in her chest. “Hey. How’s your morning been?”

“It’s been good. Got to learn all about praephins.”

“Oh yeah? Nice. Their infrared signatures are wild,” Alex says, pulling open the door.

Maggie pauses, stares after her. “Wait, infrared?”

Alex settles into her seat and picks up a menu, winks at her.

“Tell me what’s good here and maybe I’ll fill you in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for following along for the ride. comments and feedback are always appreciated. xo
> 
> you can catch me on tumblr @ starchasertonight
> 
> \-----  
> **a follow-up note on Alex's age since there was (understandably) a question about it in the comments:  
> I reject the canon timeline of Alex's age, since it makes it nearly impossible to fully account for Alex's degrees. It was important for me in this story to emphasize brilliant scientist Alex, which the show nearly abandoned in season 2 for soldier Alex. So I made her 29, which felt like as young as I could go and still honor her academic background. I imagine her as being in her early 30's in the present canon of the show.


End file.
